


far longer than forever

by airdachuain



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Swan Princess, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 10:36:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6191701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airdachuain/pseuds/airdachuain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone doesn't want Merida on the Dunbroch throne, and they're willing to hurt the one she loves to get her off of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	far longer than forever

**Author's Note:**

> My contribution for Merintosh week's "cursed" day. Enjoy!

 

It had been raining in Dunbroch. His head was still ringing like a sword fight was happening in his mind, but he knew what he remembered, and he remembered that it had been raining in Dunbroch. There had been a feast, as there always was when the clansmen gathered at their queen's castle. There had been laughter and songs and the princes sneaking off with all the food they could carry. He remembered her Majesty's smile as she listened to Lord Dingwall's stories, and the way they'd made eye contact across the table. She'd quietly excused herself from the party and he'd followed. They'd ended up just outside the great hall, crowded into the shadows where they wouldn't be seen. He remembered the way her mouth curled up into her smile, the twinkle in her eye despite the dark, how she drifted closer and closer to him when he talked about staying. He remembered how hot her hands felt in his, like touching her was touching a hot coal. Almost as if he shouldn't touch her, but he'd curled his knuckles underneath her chin and tugged her forwards... and it had started to rain. It had chased the queen away, slipping back inside once she'd gotten a promise from him that he would follow...

 

But he hadn't, had he? He was lying here, alone, on the threshold of a lake he didn't know. He tried to push himself to his feet, but was surprised to discover that he was too weak. His joints shook as he fought to at least sit up, but he finally had to compromise for rolling onto his side.

 

That's when the lake hissed, and launched a jet of steam into the air. Panting, he watched it soar up into the sky, falling in a small shower of rain. He wasn't in Dunbroch anymore. Despite the fact he'd definitely lost some time between the feast and now, he was positive he was not in Dunbroch. There wasn't a hot spring anywhere in Dunbroch, not like this one. He exhaled, and his breath came out like a cloud. Oh. He wasn't weak. The ground had frozen sold and he was shivering from the cold.

 

Somehow, he came to the sudden realization that he was not safe.

 

He shoved one shoulder forward, urging himself towards the water. It was his only chance of warming up. Gods only knew what would happen if there were any wolves or bears in these woods. He pushed himself, disregarding how hard he was shaking the harder he worked. If only he could get a little closer, a little warmer... He was just a reach away from the water's edge when someone spoke behind him.

 

"I wouldn't touch it, if I were you."

 

He flinched at that, looking over his shoulder. There was a man sitting on a rock, not so far away. From his red hair and stocky frame, he could've been from Clan Dunbroch, but there was a glint in his eye that didn't imply a hospitable persuasion. His smile was far too cruel, twisting like the gnarled branches of a haunted wood. Slowly, the man got to his feet, sauntering closer.

 

"Oh, how long I've been looking for someone like you, Lord Macintosh."

 

"Who are you? How do ye know my name?" Macintosh demanded, getting his knee underneath him to sit up.

 

"The same way I know about the little hideaways you and Little Miss Merida Muffet have been running away to. I've been watching that little brat of a queen for a long time, and thanks to you, I finally have my chance to toss her undeserving arse off that throne of hers."

 

"If ye dare touch Merida-" Macintosh started, but the man chuckled.

 

"Oh no no, I won't. Only because I can't get close enough to her. She's usually so careful keeping her cards close to her chest. But you know who can get close enough to her? Why you, of course. Well, not /you/ you. I can already tell you're just as stubborn as the rest of your people. It'll be easy enough to make a fake you, but you'll need to be... distracted. If only to keep you away from the nonsense. It's business, you see. But ohhh... what to do with you?"

 

The man huffed, rolling his eyes, "Silly me. I know exactly what to do with you!"

 

He flicked his fingers up, and the air suddenly tingled with an uneasy, dark energy, buzzing like a swarm of flies. The water rose and fell dramatically on the shore, inching up closer and closer to Macintosh. The lord shuffled back, trying to get away. Whatever was happening, the water wasn't safe. But he couldn't get away. The water swelled forward, and he felt like something was grabbing at his ankles. It dragged him back, tugging him into the lake. He struggled the best he could, but whatever spell this dark stranger had put on the hot spring was far more powerful than him, and he was finally left gasping for air, trying to keep his head above the surface.

 

"Stop this, stop this now, witch!" He yelled at the man.

 

"Witch? Why that's no way to greet your future king," the stranger laughed. He went into a mocking bow, "You must call me by my formal title, good sir. Call me King Rothbart, leader of the four clans, and protector of the highlands.

 

"I will finish you myself, I promise you-" Macintosh vowed, "You will not succeed-!"

 

He was cut off by the water going over his head. He felt himself being dragged to the bottom, when a jet of warmth suddenly pushed him back up into the air. He was ready to gasp for breath, but an inexplicable shot of agonizing pain tore through him. A shout formed in his throat, but it was stopped short by his throat tightening. He felt like he was shrinking and stretching all at the same time, like his skin was peeling from his person. Macintosh couldn't possibly identify if he felt this pain for hours or for only minutes, but when it was finally over he laid down on the shore, his arms outstretched on either side of him. Rothbart was standing over him, looking miles taller than he had before. Macintosh felt like a child - worse.

 

The stranger crouched down in front of him, and cooed, "Who's a pretty bird?"

 

Macintosh's heart went cold as he looked down at himself. Where he was once bare chested and strong was now a feathered body. His arms had turned into long wings. He tried to speak, but was horrified to discover that all that came out was an indignant honk. Determined as ever though, he still attempted to protest to his awful curse, but Rothbart got to his feet and simply walked away.

 

"You shouldn't worry," he said flippantly over his shoulder, "You turn back to a human. As long as you're smart and stay by the lake, of course. It'll be pointless to run, seeing as you'll turn back into a swan by the time dawn hits."

 

With a cackle, Rothbart disappeared into the treeline, leaving Macintosh with a feeling of dread spreading through him.

 

He needed to warn Merida of what was coming. But even if he could find her, she would never listen. She would never believe a swan.

 

It had been a long time since he'd felt this way, but Macintosh was truly and completely helpless.


End file.
